


A Sense of Wonder (Only Slightly Used)

by littlemel



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:57:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemel/pseuds/littlemel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They just don't feel like the kind of words you say out loud.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense of Wonder (Only Slightly Used)

**Author's Note:**

> Unapologetically sappy preggofic. Title from "Everything Must Go" by The Weakerthans. Thanks to [](http://fleurdeliser.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fleurdeliser.livejournal.com/)**fleurdeliser** for the beta and hand-holding. And for the record, I started writing this three days before the news actually broke. What up, ESP? Originally posted December 11, 2008.

On any given day, Gerard and Lindsey's bedroom looks like a tornado ripped through it. Books everywhere, stray markers and pencils peeking out from under the bed. Suitcases perpetually half-unpacked, sitting open in front of their dressers. Dirty laundry mixed in with clean, his thrown together with hers, and half the time Gerard doesn't even know whose shirt he's shrugging into in the morning.

The landscape's changed a little, though, the last few weeks.

The bedsheets and their clothes and Lindsey's hair smell less and less like cigarettes, more like detergent and shampoo. The mail on the dresser is mostly cards instead of bills and catalogues. Gifts from family and friends are piled up under the windows.

A box from Frank came this afternoon, Skeleton Crew logos printed in miniature on everything from onesies to washcloths. He sent six of the "Know your roots," in varying sizes. _You make sure that kid knows where it comes from_ , the card said. Frank still hasn't forgiven him for moving to L.A. Gerard's just waiting for his mom and Frank to team up and start double-whammying him with the guilt trips about moving back east, but he and Lindsey are already thinking about it.

There's a giant bottle of Tums on her nightstand, a stack of pregnancy books under the TV remote. The reminder card for her next doctor's appointment is propped up against her alarm clock, mostly hidden by a bag of Starburst. Lindsey's been eating them nonstop lately, and the floor around the garbage pail is littered with waxy bits of crumpled-up pink, red, yellow. She doesn't like the orange ones, always passes them off to Gerard when she pulls one out.

Gerard's got the dude books and the dad books, but he doesn't really think any book is going to prepare him for this. He doesn't think anything will, not the books or the doctors or the advice from his parents and friends. Not baby-proofing the house or painting the nursery or buying a crib.

Mostly Gerard's just gonna wing it and hope for the best. They'll figure it out as they go along, like they did with each other.

He watches Lindsey reach over, without looking up from the book in her lap, and fumble two orange Starburst from the bag. Her thumbnail is halfway under the corner of the wrapper before she pulls her eyes off the page. She wrinkles her nose.

"Ew, here." She holds them out pinched between her thumb and forefinger, and drops them into Gerard's cupped hand. When she reaches into the bag again she comes out with a red and a yellow. "Yay!"

Gerard leans into her and nuzzles her shoulder, smiling against it when Lindsey makes her happy noise. She's wearing a t-shirt that used to be black and used to be his, gone grey and misshapen, thin from wear. It still looks better on her than it ever did on him. Most things do.

He kisses her arm and pops the Starburst into his mouth, sits back against the headboard and flips idly through the channels while he chews. Tomorrow's weather: sunny, in the mid-to-upper sixties. Gerard's mom said it was snowing in Jersey when he talked to her earlier. Gerard still can't decide if he really misses that, or if he really doesn't.

There's nothing good on, so he turns off the TV and tips his head back, blinking at the ceiling and tonguing at a bit of Starburst stuck to his teeth. They want to paint a mural in the nursery, they just don't know what yet. Or if they want to do it before the baby's born or after, unsure of whether the sex might influence the content and even style. Gerard thinks they both feel too guilty about thinking it to say that it would. There's also the question of whether they'll even still be living here.

But it's going to be as much a love letter as it is a painting on a wall, is the thing. They want it to really say something. Because this kid could be _anything_.

Gerard looks over at Lindsey, at her bare face and her pink panties, her long legs twisted in the sheets, and feels like his heart is going to explode. Her belly's only just started to really round out, and he's _fascinated_ , totally enamored, more in love with her every day. Having this baby is the craziest fucking thing either of them's ever done, and that's saying plenty. But crazy feels okay with her.

They've both been talking to the baby since the day Lindsey walked out of their bedroom with a bright blue test strip in her hand, but there are things Gerard wants to say that haven't made their way outside his head yet, things he wants Lindsey and the baby to both know. They just don't feel like the kind of words you say out loud.

Gerard peeks over the side of the bed and spots a marker on the floor, mostly buried under a sock. He grabs it. It's bright green, medium point. Perfect.

Lindsey's watching him over the rim of her glasses when he sits up again. "You're up to something."

He grins. "Close your eyes."

"Why?" Lindsey shuts her book, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Not telling."

She settles deeper into the mass of pillows and grins. "Is it something dirty?"

"Nope."

The corners of Lindsey's mouth turn down, and Gerard laughs. "Maybe after," he concedes, and Lindsey hums, scooting closer. She tugs Gerard in for a passing cling of lips, tasting of pink Starburst, and even just that makes Gerard's breathing go a little funny. Can't let himself get distracted, though. He pulls back reluctantly. "Keep your eyes closed."

"So _bossy_ ," Lindsey smirks, but she lets him take off her glasses and set them on the nightstand.

"No peeking," he says, his eyes locked on hers. They stay closed, just the tiniest flutter of her eyelashes. "Promise."

"I promise!"

He props himself up on his elbow, pressed along Lindsey's side, and pushes her t-shirt up over her belly. Lindsey giggles when he smoothes his hand over it, cracks an eye open to peer down at him. "What are you _doing_?"

"Hey, no peeking!" He noses behind her ear, tucking the marker into his pocket. "You promised."

Lindsey huffs, hot against Gerard's cheek, and covers her eyes with her hand. "Better?"

"Yes. Thank you." He kisses her neck, his hand still on her belly.

Soon, the doctor said, they should be able to feel the baby moving around. That's gonna be a whole other level of real. Or unreal. Same difference. Gerard can't fucking wait. It's gonna blow his mind.

He pulls the marker from his pocket and uncaps it, sweeping the back of his fingers over the top curve of Lindsey's belly like he's brushing charcoal dust off a sheet of paper. This feels big and important and not at all silly, even though it probably should. He touches the marker to Lindsey's skin and she squirms a little, stifling another giggle.

"Sorry," he murmurs, his eyes fixed for a couple quickened heartbeats on the dimple in her cheek. He blinks and readjusts his grip, his fingers gone slippery. "I'll be quick."

 _I hope you have your mom's smile,_ he writes. _I hope you laugh more than you cry. I hope you find the thing that makes you happy and whole sooner than I did. I hope you dream big and make bold claims. I hope you're never afraid to be yourself, no matter who that is. I hope you always know how loved you are._

He pauses, throat tight and eyes itchy, and looks up at Lindsey. Her hand has dropped away, but her eyes are still closed, her mouth parted on a questioning smile. She fumbles for Gerard's face, sliding her hand over his cheek and her fingers into his hair.

"Gee?"

It's harder now to think of all the things he's tried and failed at, when it feels like he's got everything he ever wanted. But he still remembers that sick, heavy feeling of disappointment, and he worries, because this is the thing he could fuck up worse than anything. He kisses her palm and then her belly, below her navel where her tattoo is starting to distort.

"Almost done. Just a sec."

Lindsey fidgets when he sweeps his thumb over her skin, the last bare inch of it above her panties. Enough space for just one more thing.

_I hope I don't screw this up._

He takes a breath, reads the whole thing over, nods to himself. "Okay," he says quietly. "Okay, done."

Lindsey sits up and squints down at her bump. Her glasses are still on the nightstand. "What does it say?"

"Oh. Uh. Hang on."

Gerard scoots up and grabs his phone along with her glasses. The lighting sucks in here for taking pictures, but if he can remember to get it off his phone before he accidentally deletes it, they can show it to their kid someday.

Lining up the shot takes some creative angling, but Gerard gets a decent one on the second try. Just a bit of glare off the top of Lindsey's belly. "Here, look."

He holds out the phone and watches Lindsey's face as she reads, the way her smile softens and her eyes get shiny. He finds her hand on top of the blankets and squeezes.

Lindsey swipes at her nose, her laugh choked off and a little wet. She shakes her hand free from his to thwap him on the arm. "Men who make their pregnant wives cry end up sleeping on the couch, you know."

He doesn't call her bluff, just throws his leg over hers, her thigh warm through his sweats, and tugs her shirt over her head.


End file.
